


What Comes of Dragons

by Maleficar



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Double Penetration, F/M, Foursome - F/M/M/M, M/M, Partner Swapping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 03:14:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2797508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maleficar/pseuds/Maleficar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drunkenly, the Inquisitor and Dorian gush to each other about their love lives. The Inquisitor thinks they should trade. The next day, after a fight against a dragon, they do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Comes of Dragons

Evelyn sagged against the wall behind her and Dorian beside her, a goblet of wine in her hand, because Maker forbid they drink wine out of _mugs_ like it was _ale_.

“I’m still not… not entirely…” Dorian trailed off and Evie tilted her head back to look at him, blinking rapidly in an attempt to resolve his blurry-ish features.

“Entirely what?” she asked, spinning her goblet on its bottom. There was still some wine in it.

“That this is wine and not horse piss,” Dorian slurred at last.

Evie lifted her goblet, peered into it, then tossed its contents back. It tasted about as good as muddy rainwater, which was not good at all, and had a rough, grainy consistency. She shuddered. “Horse piss,” she agreed, slamming her goblet down. The glass along the bottom fractured, and they both stared at it for a minute before laughing uproariously.

No one else in the tavern paid them any attention. Everyone was used to the Inquisitor and Dorian getting hammered in their corner and giggling gleefully while throwing little balls of magic at each other. At least, they used to throw little balls of magic at each other. Cassandra found out what they were doing and informed Bull, who nagged at Dorian for being careless, and Blackwall, who nagged at Evie for being foolish, and Vivienne, who yelled at both of them for being idiots of the first order. They’d also gotten dirty looks from Cullen, and getting a dirty look from Cullen was like watching a puppy sulk. So they didn’t throw magic at each other when drunk anymore.

They still played Catch the Burning Ball of Fiery Death in the courtyard.

“Why’re we doing this again?” Evie asked, her words as slurred as Dorian’s.

“Because I wanted to gush to you… to you…” Dorian gestured wildly with the arm Evie wasn’t laying on. “About things.”

“Sexy things,” she said, suddenly inspired. “About Bull. About _the_ Iron Bull.” She paused thoughtfully. “The _Iron_ Bull. The Iron _Bull_. Which d’you think he prefers?”

“He likes Bull enough, when I grab him by the horns. Or the horn.”

Evie laughed, throwing back her head and genuinely laughing. That was why she got drunk with Dorian, really. She didn’t actually care much for drinking – an out of control mage was a danger not just to herself but to others. But she liked getting fuzzed around the edges enough that she could let out a belly laugh with one of her best friends. And Dorian made her laugh so easily. “Do you lick them?”

“Who?” Dorian sounded baffled.

“Not, who, stupid. What. His horns.” Evie lifted her hands to her head, index fingers pointing to either side, in poor mimicry of Bull’s horns. Then she stuck out her tongue at Dorian and wiggled it around.

He stared at her with a stupid expression on his face. “Didn’t know tongues could do that,” he said.

“Mine’s talented,” she replied, dropping her hands to the table. She stared at her fingers for long while, just studying them. “I have really long fingers,” she said at last. Lifting them, she pushed them into Dorian’s face for his inspection. “Are they as long as Bull’s… you know.”

“His cock?”

Evie snorted. “Cock is such a weird word.”

“And vagina isn’t?” Dorian drawled.

She rolled her eyes and pushed at her goblet until it teetered and fell, spilling the sludge at the bottom of its bowl onto the table. She stared at it with grotesque fascination before turning back to Dorian and wrapping her arms around his. He was strong, for a mage, though not as strong as Blackwall. Blackwall, with his dragon-sized body, which still wasn’t nearly as big as Bull’s. “Is it huge?”

“Is what huge? A vagina?” Dorian sounded baffled.

She prodded him in the side, and he jumped, grumbling at her for tickling him. “Nooooo,” she said, dragging the word out until she lost her breath. “Bull’s cock. Is it huge? Is it…” Holding up her hand, she pointed to her wrist. Awkwardly, since she was still wrapped around Dorian. “As big around as my wrist? Or bigger?”

Dorian eyed her wrist critically, as though this were a very important question. “Thereabouts.”

“Oooh. How does it even fit?”

“Usually, I take him.”

Evie fell silent, pondering the logistics of that for a long time. Or what felt like a long time. It was hard to judge time when she was as drunk as she was. Admittedly, that wasn’t very drunk compared to most people. They’d had a drinking contest a few nights ago. Bull and Varric had ended up going head to head long after everyone else had all but passed out. Evie had dropped out of the first round, too busy giggling to manage. Alcohol always made her giggly.

And curious. Her mind conjured pictures of Dorian between Bull’s legs, or behind him, maybe, with Bull’s head thrown back. Dorian would be holding Bull’s horns, of course, or only one of them, while stroking Bull’s cock. That big, enormous cock the size of her wrist.

“You’re thinking about it,” Dorian said in a sing-song voice.

“What?” The statement startled her so badly her brain lost the words her ears were hearing.

“His cock.” Dorian clucked. “Are you thinking about how amazing it would be inside you?”

Well, now she was. Now she was imagining herself on her back with Bull riding her all slow and lazy. Or maybe him pressing her up against a wall and taking her hard and fast with ruthless abandon, and a breathy little moan escaped her.

“You are!” Dorian sounded oddly delighted by this. “Tell me, how does it compare to Blackwall’s.”

She peered at her wrist. “Maybe a smidge bigger.”

“How much is a smidge?”

She pinched her fingers together. “But he goes for _hours_. One time, he spent an hour just licking me. I thought I was going to die.”

“But you went off like a fireball?”

“World’s biggest,” she said with a sigh.

“Bull tied me down.”

She choked. “He did not!” She was more surprised that Dorian let someone tie him than the fact that Bull was into that sort of thing. And the very idea… Well, Blackwall had held her down enough times to come close to feeling restrained. There was something delicious in being forced to submit to your lover whilst knowing he would stop everything in a heartbeat if you asked him.

“He did. And he’s remarkably thorough in his attentions. Very considerate, which one wouldn’t expect of a savage qunari.”

She exhaled heavily, unable to stop the mental image of Bull tying her down. Or holding her and stroking her breasts while Blackwall was between her legs, licking her. Maker, she was depraved.

Dorian cleared his throat. “In the interest of honesty—”

“Shit on your honesty,” Evie slurred out, waving him off.

“—I’ve imagined your Blackwall naked a time or two. Perhaps three. Or more.”

Evie gasped, the sound caught somewhere between delight and jealous indignation. But then she thought about it more, about Dorian fantasizing about Blackwall and about her fantasizing about Bull, and a wicked grin slid across her face. “We should trade,” she said.

Dorian laughed at that, the sound a bit bitter. He was more sober, now. More sober than she, but she was beginning to trade the world’s fuzzy edges for the hard ones. “He’d never.”

“He might.” She considered it. Blackwall didn’t dislike Dorian. They’d called a truce of sorts and enjoyed drinking together. He’d grudgingly admitted Dorian had a sense of refinement and style he lacked and had gone to him for help dressing for the Orlesian ball. And he liked how Dorian fought which, from Blackwall, was a definite declaration of affection.

The trouble would be framing the question in such a way that Blackwall didn’t think she was trying to replace him or that his lovemaking was anything but satisfactory. It was _more_ than satisfactory, it was amazing, but he already felt unworthy of her. If she suggested bringing someone else into their bed, he might come away with the conclusion that she wasn’t pleased with him.

“I could ask. Would you ask?”

Dorian peered down at her. “I didn’t know you southerners were so adventurous.”

“Circle mages,” she said proudly, “have no moral compass.”

“So you, me, Blackwall, and Bull.” He spoke with consideration, weighing her words.

It occurred to her that he might not like that arrangement very much. “You don’t have to touch me,” she volunteered. “We can work around that.”

One of his brows quirked. “Evie, I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to feel your tongue on me after what you did with it earlier.”

Her eyes went owl wide. “Really? But you don’t like women.”

“My dear Evelyn.” He usually called her that when he was being serious. Or when he was mocking her. She wished she was more sober so she could tell which it was. “Your mouth is fine.” She opened her mouth, and he cut her off. “It’s _fine_. It’s the other bits of you that I’m entirely uninterested in.” He chucked her chin, and she snapped at his finger, earning a throaty laugh. “And after what you did with your tongue…”

She gave him a wicked grin. “My tongue does amazing things.”

“Cajole your Blackwall and I’ll speak with Bull. I doubt he’ll have any protests.”

* * *

But she didn’t get a chance to cajole Blackwall. She flopped into their bed and was unconscious before Blackwall had even finished curling around her and drawing her against his chest. The next morning, she woke alone, which wasn’t unusual, and as soon as she left her quarters, Leliana descended on her. The Spymaster handed her a missive about some dragon stomping around Crestwood, gave her a brief lecture about responsible drinking and responsible Inquisitoring, and patted Evie on her ass as she pushed her out the door. “Go kill things for us.”

And that was how she, Blackwall, Bull, and Dorian ended up in a field shortly after noon, gasping and panting. Well, she and Dorian were gasping and panting. Bull and Blackwall were busy cleaning their blades and arguing about who did the most damage to the dragon.

“Did you see when I gouged its leg with my horn?” Bull asked with a gleeful growl. Someone else might have cackled, but Bull growled.

“I was too busy burying my blade in the beast’s eye.” Blackwall’s hands swept down the length of his blade and Evie shivered, remembering the last time he swept his hands down her body like that. She’d come screaming.

Dorian propped his head on his hand and gave her a lazy grin. “Do you ever stop thinking about what he does to you in bed?”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Do you ever stop thinking about what Bull does to you?”

“Often, when I’m observing my own magnificence.” Clearing his throat, he said, “And did either of you notice how I froze the fell beast’s leg so that you could shatter it?”

“Which we did,” Blackwall returned.

“Skillfully,” Bull said, making the word a low rumble.

“Maker, I want them to fuck me at the same time,” Evie breathed.

Except she didn’t breathe the words. She spoke them in a normal tone of voice with a sliver of a moan at the end, and all three men stared at her. Dorian, at least, was amused. Blackwall looked like he’d been blindsided by a dragon and Bull, after flicking a glance Dorian’s way, grinned at her. Lasciviously. Like he was imagining her naked.

Sputtering, she held up both hands. “I mean—”

“Oh, no,” Dorian said, cutting her off. “You meant exactly what you said.”

With a swipe of her hand, she sealed Dorian’s mouth with a casing of ice. He made muffled sounds of distress as he slapped his hand over his mouth, but she ignored them, going straight to Blackwall. Who looked almost stricken.

Bull watched her ass, of course, the ass.

Grasping Blackwall’s hand, she dragged him a few yards away from Dorian and Bull, letting them talk out whatever they might need to talk out. “I should explain,” she said.

“If I have somehow given offense, my lady, I—”

“No!” she exclaimed, reaching up to touch her hand to his cheek. His hand went immediately to her wrist, an old, familiar gesture. A soft smile formed on her lips, and she stepped closer to him, brushing against the hard plates of his armor and ignoring the smudges of dragon blood. “No, that’s not… it’s just…” She sighed and closed her eyes. “Dorian and I got drunk last night and were comparing lovers, and the idea of being with two men is very intriguing, but that would leave Dorian out, and I’d never want to leave Dorian out, so I told him I’d ask if you’d be interested in trying a few things with him and me and Bull, but I don’t want you to think I’m upset with you or think that you’re lacking in any way because you’re not, not at all, I mean when you touch me I come alive, and then I just come, sometimes almost ten times in one night, and—”

“My lady.” His eyes were serious, and his hand tightened slightly on her wrist. Not enough to come even close to hurting her, just a reassurance. A steady, comforting pressure. “I want to make you happy.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m unsatisfied. Or unhappy.”

He stepped closer to her, bending his head until his lips brushed hers. His kiss was light, airy, teasing. “I know you’re not. In this one thing, I am sure.” His whiskers tickled her cheeks as he nuzzled her ear. “I’ll try. For you.”

“You don’t have to.”

He was silent for a minute. Then, resting his forehead on hers so she couldn’t mistake his tone, he said, quite seriously, “I will do anything for you, my lady. And there is some part of me that is interested in watching another man bring you pleasure.”

“Bull,” she breathed. “It would be Bull.”

Heat flared in Blackwall’s eyes. “And Dorian?”

“I might give him a blow job. He was impressed with what I can do with my tongue.”

“Any sane man would be.” His free hand cupped her cheek. “Would you be averse to watching me take him?”

Her mind filled with images of Blackwall behind Dorian, holding him down with a hand between Dorian’s shoulder blades, the other hand on Dorian’s hip, the muscles of his body flexing as he drove into Dorian’s pliant body, and she gasped. Heat coiled in her belly, low and sweet and thick like honey, and she shook her head. “No, I’d like that very much. But we need to get cleaned up, first.”

Blackwall’s fingers slipped up her cheek, tugging something from her head. She blinked at the piece of viscera in his hand, her stomach turning. So much for that arousal. “So we should,” he said, giving her a lopsided grin. 

As they made their way back toward Dorian and Bull, Dorian gave them a broad grin. “Work everything out, Inquisitor?” he called cheerfully. 

Taking a deep breath to steady herself – she couldn’t believe she was actually going to do this – she said, “How does tonight sound?”

A low rumble issued from Bull. “We’re looking forward to it.”

* * *

Evie was pacing when Bull and Dorian climbed the steps to her chambers, flicking her the end of her braid nervously against her chin. Her thoughts were jumbled, confused, and filled with anxiety. Everything could go wrong here, she thought, her eyes flicking toward Blackwall. He was lounging on her bed in a loose tunic and looser trousers, his beard still damp from their bath.

She’d ridden him slowly, whispering words of love to him, trying to dispel that lingering fear that he would think she didn’t want him later. And trying to reassure herself that _he_ wouldn’t leave _her_.

“There’s wine,” she said abruptly, gesturing to the bottle on one of the low-standing tables. She’d thought wine might help everyone relax, but she hadn’t had a glass herself. She was too nervous for wine. If she drank any, she was more likely to dissolve into giggles until she threw up, and then no one would have any fun.

Fun. _This is supposed to be fun_ , she reminded herself.

Dorian dropped onto her bed, pushing Blackwall’s feet out of his way, and propped his chin on his hand. “Are you going to throw up?” he asked.

Her eyes bugged a little and she sucked in a breath to protest when Bull’s hands fell on her shoulders. She jumped, startled, but otherwise went still. The weight of his touch froze her in place. “Relax, _imekari_ ,” he said gently, pressing his fingers into the tense muscles of her shoulder.

“What’s that mean?” she asked, a bit breathless. Her braid brushed over her chin again. Back and forth, a bristly stroke.

“Literally, child. More liberally, one who is little.” He grinned at her. “You are littler than me.”

“Everyone is littler than you,” she muttered. Then she gasped as he tugged her against his chest, wrapping his arms loosely around her body. She wasn’t caged by any means, but the size of him was enough to make her feel well and truly tiny by comparison.

“Ground rules,” Bull said, and for a moment she was startled. He was taking command? Then she was relieved. Relieved she wasn’t going to have to maneuver everyone like she did in the field, relieved she wasn’t going to have to watch everyone and make sure nothing went wrong, just plain relieved. “Any one of you feels uncomfortable at any time, you say _katoh_ , and we stop. Everything just stops.” He enunciated the words clearly, crisply, and Evie got the impression that if everything didn’t just stop, he’d do serious damage to the offender. “Clear?”

Dorian rolled his eyes grandly. He’d clearly gotten this speech before, so it was for her and Blackwall’s benefit. 

“Clear,” she said, slowly leaning against Bull’s chest. He was warm, like Blackwall, but broader. Firmer. She let out a long, slow breath, and as she exhaled, she sank more fully against him. A small, rumbling noise came from his chest, like a purr, and the sound unwound more of her tension.

“Clear,” Blackwall said, watching her fixedly. She offered him a small smile and received a curt nod in return.

“Good. Hard limits. Anything you absolutely won’t do or aren’t willing to have done to your lover?”

Before Evie could speak a word, Blackwall said, “She doesn’t kiss any of you.” And there was the flash of vulnerability in his eyes, the worry that a kiss was more intimate than even the giving of her body.

“You in agreement, imekari?”

She nodded, licking her lips. “That’s fair. And I… I don’t want either of you taking Blackwall.” Let that be her limit, she thought, not his. Her gaze shifted to Dorian. “Obviously, you don’t need to touch me.”

“I’m still hoping you’ll put that wicked tongue of yours to good use, Inquisitor.” His lips drew back in a sinful smile, one full of expectation and desire, and she bit her lip. If he wanted it, she’d do it. “So there will be some touching on my part.”

“Just no kissing,” Blackwall growled.

Dorian gave Blackwall a nod. “Of course.”

“If there’s nothing else…” Met with silence and shaking heads, Bull grunted an affirmation and herded Evie toward the bed. “Blackwall,” he said, pushing her toward him. “Kiss your lady.”

Evie hesitated at the edge of the bed, glancing at Dorian. Dorian lifted a brow. “Don’t mind me. I enjoy watching.”

Well, that did nothing for her nerves. But it occurred to her they were probably all a bit nervous. So she turned to Blackwall, clambering onto the bed beside him, settling on her knees. He brushed his hand over her cheek, his eyes fixed on hers. “You’re the only one in this room,” he murmured to her. Sometimes, it surprised her how easily he could read her. Then he drew her mouth to his.

His kiss was soft, sweet – a reassurance for them both, she expected. And that, she decided, was the last of those kinds of thoughts. Shoving nervousness and worry to the side, she wrapped her arms around Blackwall’s neck and sank into the kiss, parting her lips on a quiet mewl of pleasure.

Fingers danced up her back, as light as a whisper, and caught her braid. “Let it down,” she heard Dorian say, and Bull freed her braid from the queue that held it. His fingers combed through her hair as Blackwall’s tongue slipped into her mouth, tasting, licking, soothing. Bull’s fingers, strong and sure, pressed against the base of her skull, and she moaned, sinking into Blackwall’s arms.

Distantly, she heard the sound of cloth hitting stone, but she was too wrapped up in Blackwall’s kiss, in the idle rubbing of Bull’s fingers, to pay it much mind.

Blackwall’s hands slid over her sides, ghosting over her breasts to the toggles on the front of her shirt. He pulled them free, and another pair of hands helped her out of the garment, leaving her in her breast band and her trousers. Strong hands closed over her breasts, hands bigger and rougher than Blackwall’s, and she let out another soft moan. Her back arched, pressing her breasts against Bull’s palms, and warm, masculine laughter filled her ears.

“Come here, imekari.” Bull pulled her away from Blackwall’s kiss, brushing her hair away from her neck. He nipped at the line of her throat as Dorian, lithe and naked and perfectly formed, leaned toward Blackwall.

“Let me help you out of all those clothes,” Dorian purred, sliding his hand under Blackwall’s shirt. Blackwall tensed for just a second, glancing at her.

She was panting, staring at Dorian’s hand, wanting to see it on Blackwall’s flesh instead of obscured by his shirt. It occurred to her that this was a crucial moment, her in Bull’s arms and Dorian’s hands on Blackwall. If anyone was going to say katoh, it was going to be in this moment, at this exact second.

“I want to see,” she said softly, her voice barely a whisper. “I want to see him touch you.”

Blackwall’s lips tugged into a lopsided grin. “Anything for you, my lady.”

Dorian stripped Blackwall’s shirt from his body as Bull’s fingers found Evie’s nipples. She gasped, her eyes almost fluttering shut, but she refused to let them. She kept her gaze fixed on Dorian’s hand sliding over Blackwall’s chest. Bull’s hand slid over hers, and with a start she realized he was touching her exactly how Dorian was touching Blackwall. When Dorian’s nails raked lightly over Blackwall’s nipples, Bull pinched hers until she moaned softly, her back arching against his chest. When Dorian placed open mouthed kisses on Blackwall’s shoulder, Bull kissed her.

Heat fluttered through her, a bit ephemeral but growing in intensity. It went from tiny ember to smoldering flame when Dorian pressed Blackwall against the pillows and kissed him, hard and domineering, his hands firm on Blackwall’s chest. Blackwall’s hands settled on Dorian’s hips, fingers flexing against Dorian’s darker skin, and Evie whimpered. She knew how those hands felt. Loved the weight of them. A small groan came from Dorian as Blackwall dragged the mage between his legs and arched against him, and Evie moaned.

“Good, imekari,” Bull rumbled in her ear, his fingers sliding under her breast band, pulling it open and letting it drop to the floor. His rough fingers stroked over her skin, tracing lazy circles from collarbone to stomach, and then dipped into her breeches. His fingers stayed there, just under the hem, and she tensed with anticipation. “Watch them.”

Dorian’s hand worked its way into Blackwall’s trousers, and Blackwall hissed, breaking away from the kiss to arch into Dorian’s hand. Dorian chuckled, the sound dark and rich with pleasure. “Evie, you lucky bitch,” he said without any malice, just the heat of desire, and Evie choked on a moan as Dorian’s hand started moving.

She couldn’t see, though, not really, because Blackwall’s leg was bent at the knee.

With a touch, Bull rectified that. His fingers brushed the side of Blackwall’s thigh. “Down,” he said, and Blackwall’s leg went down as though pulled out from under him. 

Dorian paused to push Blackwall’s trousers and smalls over his hips, and Bull pulled them off the rest of the way with the hand that wasn’t resting on Evie’s belly. His trousers and undergarments gone, Blackwall spread his legs. His cock rose over his stomach, red and perfect, and Evie licked her lips. Blackwall gave Dorian a lazy, arrogant smile. “Do your worst, magister.”

Huffing, Dorian curled his hand around Blackwall’s hard cock. “I’m _not_ a magister,” he said, stroking Blackwall from base to tip. Blackwall’s head fell back with a groan, and Evie let out a quiet cry of delight.

Bull’s hand slipped between her thighs, one finger sliding along her cunt. “Wet,” he murmured in her ear, loud enough that only she could hear. “But not enough.” His teeth grazed her earlobe, and she shuddered, her eyes rapt on Dorian and Blackwall. “I want you soaking, imekari, so wet that I can feel it through your breeches.” His free hand captured both of hers, bringing her hands up and tucking them under her chin, a casual restraint that felt so much more powerful because he was so powerful.

 _One word_ , she reminded herself. And then she wondered why she thought it.

Her eyes followed every stroke of Dorian’s hand. His thumb brushed over the tip of Blackwall’s cock, spreading moisture over red skin. His fist descended along the shaft, pumping slowly, leisurely, and Blackwall’s back bowed. He grunted, softly, as if unwilling to part from the sound, and Dorian leaned forward, murmuring something against Blackwall’s ear while slanting a heated look at Evie.

“Do you think he’ll beg?” Bull asked against her ear, his voice still pitched in that low, distractingly rumbly tone. She felt his words more than she heard them, and they rattled in her chest, her belly. Her cunt. 

Maker, she ached, and he was still just cupping her, holding her. Occasionally, he’d draw his finger along her slit, but he didn’t part her lips and sink that finger into her. The anticipation of when he’d actually, truly touch her was worse than any torture she could have devised.

“Please,” she gasped, rolling her hips against his hand.

At the same time, Dorian pulled back and dropped between Blackwall’s legs, his mouth closing around the Warden’s cock. Blackwall groaned, long and low, and Evie let out a quiet cry. Finally, _finally_ , Bull pressed a finger between her swollen lips.

“Ride me to Dorian’s rhythm,” he commanded, and she was helpless to do anything but obey.

Gaze riveted on Dorian and Blackwall, she rolled her hips against Bull’s hand, a slick, sinuous slide that garnered a noise of pleasure from him. She couldn’t call it a gasp or a groan, it was something like a growl, but not at all menacing. It was the sound of a man clinging to control when he felt ragged. It was a sound she adored. 

Her fingers twisted in his grasp until they were laced, after a fashion, around some of his, and he gave her a squeeze as she rocked over him. His finger dragged through her folds, brushing over her clit, and she whimpered, gasped, keened softly, urgently. Fire danced through her body, spreading through her limbs. As Dorian bobbed his head over Blackwall’s cock, Blackwall turned his head and met her gaze.

His eyes were hooded with lust, drugged and filled with pleasure. He groaned, arching into Dorian’s mouth, and that was when Dorian pulled off him, sitting back with a grin. “Ah, ah, Warden, we’re not done putting on our show yet.” Dorian braced himself on Blackwall’s chest, leaning over the larger man, still wearing that wicked grin. “I get to have my way with you, and then you and Bull get to have your way with our lovely Evie.” He glanced at her, and she didn’t have it in her to feel shame as she worked herself against Bull’s hand, climbing closer to her peak. “How close is she?”

“Close,” Bull said, giving her hands another squeeze.

And she was. Deliriously, ridiculously close. 

“Here, kadan.” Bull released her hands, and she grabbed onto his arm, the one attached to the hand between her legs, needing to hold onto something. 

Blackwall chuckled. “I know that look. Sink your finger into her, and she’ll come screaming for you.”

“Ah, but I don’t want her to do that,” Bull said, fishing something out of a pouch on the bed beside them. How had she not noticed the pouch beside them? Why did she care about the pouch beside them? He tossed a vial at Dorian, and Dorian plucked it from the air with deft fingers.

“Oil,” Dorian purred, pressing the vial into Blackwall’s hands.

“Maker,” Evie breathed, twisting against Bull’s finger, trying to find the perfect rhythm and pressure to bring the heat in her to an explosive head. He confounded her, denied her, moving with her to keep the pressure just enough to drive her mad but not enough to satisfy.

Blackwall knew what he was doing. That much was obvious when he urged Dorian onto his back and unstoppered the vial of oil, pouring it over his fingers. The idea that Blackwall had done this before did something witchy to Evie’s body, making the heat flare in her belly. She watched, unable to tear her eyes away, as Blackwall worked one finger and then another into Dorian’s entrance. Dorian hissed, back arching with the limber grace of a dancer or some dangerous, leonine beast, and Evie shivered in Bull’s arms.

“Watch them,” Bull commanded. As if Evie was going to do something else. As if she could possibly tear her eyes away. 

With an easy motion, Blackwall pressed his fingers into Dorian, stretching him, preparing him, and Dorian bit his lip and groaned. “Again,” he demanded, and Blackwall pushed his fingers back into Dorian. Dorian groaned, and Evie’s cunt clenched around nothing, making her ache and burn impossibly more.

Her breath came in short, desperate bursts, sharp and staccato. As Blackwall withdrew his fingers, coating his cock in the glistening oil, Bull pulled his hand away from her. 

A cry of upset came from her, and Blackwall’s head snapped up, his gaze narrowing on Bull.

“Just taking off the lady’s pants,” Bull said, tone placating. His hands swept down her side, leaving her skin slick with her arousal, and he pushed her breeches to her knees. She struggled the rest of the way out of them, until Dorian beckoned her forward.

“Hands and knees, Inquisitor,” he said, and her cunt rippled with pleasure. Delicious possibilities filled her mind as Dorian tangled a fist in her hair and drew her closer. “Your mouth?”

She licked her lips, turning her hungry gaze to his cock.

“My, but she looks ravenous,” Dorian murmured.

Blackwall snorted quietly, pressing his cock against Dorian’s entrance and easing slowly inside as Evie watched, enraptured. “Between you, me, and Bull, sometimes I have to pry her off me,” he said, and then he groaned, and Dorian moaned, and Evie descended on Dorian’s cock like a woman starved. 

She sucked his cock between her lips, her tongue exploring the head of it thoroughly. Dorian’s fingers twisted in her hair as he gasped out, “Vishante kaffas.” 

Smothering a laugh of pure, feminine delight – for she loved the obscene things men said with their cocks in her mouth – Evie relaxed her throat and slid as far down as she could, her nose nearly brushing against Dorian’s stomach. He swore again, arching under her. She pulled off him slowly, swirling her tongue around him, heat rolling through her as she glanced to the side and watched Blackwall’s cock push into Dorian’s body.

Gentle hands roughened by years of battle fell on her hips, Bull’s hands, and she felt him press against her, his cock slipping between her legs. He was massive, but instead of disturbing her, her body answered his touch with a flood of wetness that made him groan. He muttered something in qunlat, his fingers sliding over her hips to press against her clit, and she moaned around Dorian’s cock. 

Dorian’s hand tightened on her hair. “Fuck, Bull, you—” He broke off on a moan, the muscles in his stomach flexing, to Evie’s delight. She wanted to touch them, to dance her fingers over them as she licked down the side of his cock, tracing a vein, but she didn’t dare. “You should feel her mouth on you.”

“Worth it?” Bull asked.

“Always is,” Blackwall said, and Evie reached out to touch him, to stroke her hands over his muscled abdomen in lieu of Dorian’s. He shuddered at her touch, his body convulsing.

And in that moment, she felt incredibly powerful. She had three of the world’s strongest, most capable men in her bed, all of them working toward the singular goal of shared pleasure. She felt as though she were at the center of it, though she knew she shared that place with Dorian; Bull and Blackwall were doing this for both her and Dorian, not one or the other alone. With that realization came a profound sense of love – of being adored and cherished in a way she couldn’t put into words.

It made her keen with delight around Dorian’s cock, made electric fire dance through her veins and skitter across Dorian’s skin. He jerked beneath her and then laughed. “Electricity play, Evie?” he asked, his voice tense. Tight with the strain of pleasure. “Wouldn’t have—” He broke off on a gasp.

“You talk too much,” Blackwall said, and he leaned over her and Dorian both, bracing himself on one hand, and picked up his pace.

Any pithy retort Dorian might have had died on his lips.

Behind her, Bull laughed. “That’s it,” he said, his hands sliding between Evie’s legs, skirting around her cunt, playing with her, teasing her. His cock split her lips, dragging against her, but missing her clit. His fingers found that a second later, dancing over the sensitive nub.

Around Dorian’s cock, she moaned, the sound rich and heady. His nails scraped against her scalp, and she felt the change in him, in the way he moved. The rhythm he’d kept, hips rocking into her mouth and against Blackwall’s cock, became erratic, uncontrolled. He gasped something in Tevene, and Evie made to draw back, not sure he’d want to come in her mouth.

He yanked her off him a second later, and Bull reached over her to grab Blackwall’s shoulder and still him. Panting, Dorian turned Evie’s head toward him with a tug on her hair. “Your tongue,” he drawled, “really does do amazing things. But I want to finish while watching you.”

Her eyes went wide. “Really?”

“Really,” he said, releasing her hair. His fingers brushed over her jaw as he dropped his hand, propping himself against the foot of her bed. 

“But—”

“I like to watch,” he interrupted smoothly. “And there’s nothing I’d like to watch more than those two men fuck you until you scream.”

Heat stabbed through her, and Bull let out a throaty laugh, releasing Blackwall to close a hand around her shoulder. He drew her upright, clasping her against his chest as he thrust lazily between her legs, the most wicked tease. “Towel yourself off, Blackwall,” he said, nodding to the wash basin she kept on one side of the room, “and then come back.”

Blackwall slipped off the bed, and while he obeyed Bull’s command, Bull stepped away from Evie. She keened, missing the heat of him immediately. He pushed her down, onto her back, her legs hanging over the edge of the bed, and leaned over her. His fingers pressed between her legs, dragging through her arousal, and he gave her a feral grin. “Soaking,” he said, voice filled with pleasure. “Imekari, I’m going to enjoy making you scream for us.”

She whimpered, arching her hips into his touch. His fingers were light but sure, touching her in clever ways. Only one other man had found the combination of strokes and flicks that Bull so effortlessly employed, and he was washing.

“Vocal thing, isn’t she?” Dorian asked, and Evie turned to look at him. He was stroking himself slowly, lazily. “Not as good as your mouth.” His lips kicked up in a wry smile. 

She licked her lips, about to fire off Thedas’s wittiest rejoinder, when Bull pressed a finger into her. She couldn’t stop the cry that burst from her lips, her hips lifting off the bed to meet him. Pleasure like fire coiled in her belly, and the source of it was the steady, even thrust of Bull’s finger. He worked her slowly, stirring his finger in her, stretching her, opening her, and she welcomed his invasion with wordless pleas for more. 

Then Blackwall’s hands were on her shoulders, lifting her. He pulled her off Bull’s fingers, and she whimpered in disappointment, shaking her head, not quite capable of vocalizing her displeasure. Settling against the foot of the bed, beside Dorian, Blackwall tugged her back to his chest, spreading her legs over his thighs.

Bull surveyed the three of them with sharp eyes, his gaze surprisingly clear and keen. But, then again, she supposed he was very observant. He was always observant. How else would he know to touch her like he did? He responded to unspoken cues, subtle shifts of their bodies. he knew them better than they knew themselves. No wonder Dorian loved being with him. No wonder Dorian loved him.

Kneeling between her legs, Bull plucked the vial of oil from the bed. He poured some of what remained onto one of his fingers. “Ready, imekari?”

Evie’s only reply was an arch of her back, a spreading of her legs. 

Bull’s eyes lifted to Blackwall. “Touch Dorian while I ready her.”

Dropping her head against Blackwall’s shoulder, she turned to watch her lover’s hand curl around Dorian’s and then replace it altogether. Dorian arched into Blackwall’s touch with a quiet groan of pleasure. “I do love a man with rough hands,” he purred.

Fascinated by the sight, Evie was unprepared for the press of Bull’s finger against her ass. She stiffened, eyes jerking to his. Bull paused, watching her, then slid the knuckles of his other hand along her calf, her thigh. His thumb brushed over her clit, and she sank back against Blackwall, turning her eyes once more to Blackwall’s hand on Dorian’s cock. 

She felt the slow intrusion of Bull’s finger as a pleasant pressure, the passage made easier by the oil and his thumb rubbing steady circles over her clit. She bit her lip when Dorian’s hips jerked against Blackwall’s hand. Licked it when Blackwall brushed his thumb over a bead of precum and spread it over Dorian’s cock. 

The pleasure of it was almost too much, laying on her lover while her lover gave another man pleasure. While a third man worked a second finger into her ass and opened her for her lover’s cock. She shivered, moaned, her eyes drifting shut. The world was becoming hazy, an indistinct construct that existed only to spread the heat of lust through her body.

“Ah, she’s ready,” Bull said in that delightful, warm rumble of his. 

She felt a cock against her ass, sighed with pleasure as Blackwall eased into her. Bull’s thumb kept circling her clit, teasing her, keeping her on the edge. It wasn’t a frustrating edge. She wasn’t so desperate to come that she was mindless with it. It was like floating in a warm lake on the hottest summer days – a place of wonder and comfort that you never wanted to leave. She never wanted to leave.

With a languid smile, she spread her legs and ground down against Blackwall, making him hiss. His fingers tightened on Dorian’s cock, and Dorian moaned softly. The sounds of their pleasure heightened hers. And then Bull was pressing into her, so much larger than Blackwall, stretching and filling her to her very limits. He went slowly, a look of fierce concentration on his face.

Evie’s hand touched his chest when he was fully inside her. “Wait,” she said, gasping. There was no pain. She didn’t need to adjust, she just wanted a moment to savor the feeling of both of them inside her, filling her. It was better than anything she could have dreamed of, and yet, somehow, lacking. There was something missing, but she didn’t know what it was. 

“Whatever you’re thinking,” Bull said softly, eyes fixed on her. “Let it go, imekari. There’s no room here for anything but us.” 

She gave him a satisfied smile and tapped her cheek. “There’s room for one more.”

Dorian swore. “Logistically, I think that’s impossible,” he said, and he sounded disappointed. “But by all means, both of you, continue. There’s nothing I like more than watching two very well formed men work.”

And work they did. Evie let out a cry as Bull eased out of her and then thrust back in. He wasn’t going for gentle, but she didn’t want gentle. He filled her hard and fast, rubbing her against Blackwall’s cock, and she cried out, head falling back against Blackwall’s shoulder. She wanted to keep watching him stroke Dorian, but she couldn’t focus. She couldn’t see past the burning pleasure that kept building higher. 

There wasn’t any teasing, not anymore, just Bull driving into her and driving her, pushing her with ruthless precision to the edge of ecstasy. He didn’t just tip her over it, though. When he got here there, he shoved her with all his strength, and she did scream. She screamed for him, for Blackwall, her body clenching around them both in exquisite agony. Blackwall’s hand curled around her jaw, and he pressed his mouth to hers. Beneath her shoulder, her could feel his muscles flexing, his hand still working on Dorian, and for some reason that thought, that mental image, sent her careening over the edge a second time. Blackwall swallowed her cries of pleasure, muffling them as Dorian swore viciously. He groaned and then was silent, but Bull hadn’t finished. 

He was still moving in her, hard and fast, and when Blackwall released her mouth from his kiss, Bull pulled her forward. She shifted to her knees, giving Blackwall room to move, too, and the feeling of them both moving inside her, one pressing in when the other pulled out, was too much. Before she could throw her arms around Bull’s neck, he caught her in an embrace, pulling her against his chest and biting down on her neck. 

She cried out again, softly, weakly, her body breaking on a third orgasm. It was mind-scrambling, but not so much so that she missed Bull and Blackwall pressing into her in the same moment, the hot wash of their seed filling her body. It scalded her, though that was surely her imagination making it more intense.

Bull stroked one hand over her hair. “Easy, imekari,” he murmured, carefully pulling her away from Blackwall. He eased out of her and then settled on the bed, drawing her against his chest. She curled against him, shaking, breathless, panting, not sure if she was still in her own skin or not.

When she finally found her voice, she found the ability to comprehend as well. And she comprehend that the lot of them were a mess of bodily fluids and exhaustion, all sated and pleased.

“That,” she breathed, “was fucking incredible.”

“Shall we do it again some time?” Dorian asked, propped on one arm and giving her a game grin.

Blackwall shrugged. “I’ve no objection if my lady doesn’t.”

And against her shoulder, Bull laughed. “Then we’ll do it again some time.”

It turned out that _some time_ – that vague, nebulous term that could mean tomorrow but more likely meant never – actually meant two days later on a pile of clothes in the middle of the Emerald Graves after taking down a dragon.


End file.
